


Domestic Nonsense

by Ermmmmmm



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Drabbles, Fluff, M/M, Will add more characters later - Freeform, and shit, general sickening love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 23:48:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6260743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ermmmmmm/pseuds/Ermmmmmm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluff. Unadulterated, pure, uncensored fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domestic Nonsense

**Author's Note:**

> Ever since I saw 'domestic nonsense' on one of the Tumblr posts, I simply had to write something with that title. So here it is - I might well add to this and write some more little Drabble one shots because I can't get enough of relationship Robron. Enjoy! :)

“ – a father of eight wants a DNA test to see if their real father is actually the postman, and we’ll be chatting to the desperate wife who wants her husband to stop giving weed to their pet cat! Stick around for part two!”

  
Aaron slurps up the milk and the Shreddies from the spoon in his hand, droplets going down his dressing gown as the theme music fades to the adverts. He’s been waiting for this day off for weeks; Adam’s seriously driving him up the wall with this fucking street food thing, how they’re gonna travel the country, visit France maybe. He resisted the urge to tell him that the Frenchmen he knew would rather eat their own shit than a crappy English burger. But now, it’s him, all alone, with Jezza, and a bowl of cereal. He feels eighteen again, like he’s bunking off college. His ‘me’ time – though he swears he’s not been reading his mum’s mags.

All alone. 

“Oh god, Aaron, turn that shit off”. 

Morning ruined. 

“How about fuck off?” Aaron grunts with his mouth full, and Robert turns around in his own dressing gown, leans over, and nicks a sly kiss off him. 

Morning almost ruined. 

“What are you doing here anyway?” Aaron swallows his last mouthful, the spoon chinking in the bowl that he sets down on the coffee table. “I thought you were doing networking or some shit this week?” 

“Nah, I thought I’d spent the time fucking you instead”, Robert replies matter-of-factly from the kitchen worktop, the kettle rumbling cosily as he washes up a mug. “Oh don’t be too happy about it”, he whines again when Aaron doesn’t reply. It’s been a bit of a bumpy road since they got back together; Robert complained last week that Aaron still has too many boundaries and that he feels shut out, when Aaron just wants to have five minutes to himself. On his own. With no one around. Completely alone. Then Aaron called Robert an attention-seeking dog and then Aaron was relegated to the sofa. Again. Aaron hates the sofa; somehow the lumps are exactly where Aaron rests his spine…

Aaron sighs, remembering the last fight. As much as his heart yearned for the days when such domestic nonsense was a daily occurrence, he has begun to understand when his mouth needs to shut. He smiles to himself but lets Robert wallow in his own disgruntled state for a little longer, watching him fiddle with the French press absentmindedly as he waits for the kettle to boil. Watching the greater spotted Robert’s one of his favourite hobbies right now.  
The theme music’s back on and Aaron’s attention snaps back to the screen in front of him. He pulls his knees up to his chin and drops his slippers to the floor, huddling himself up close and snug in his dressing gown. 

“God, that guy’s butters”, Aaron mumbles to himself as he watches the screen; the guy is missing about six of his front teeth and you could make a picture with the spots on his face. Jeremy Kyle’s one of those things his mum calls guilty pleasures, always has been; he’d come home when he was younger, when the world made him angry and bitter and twisted, and just sit and silently judge everyone, get the steam out without lobbing something breakable at Paddy or his mum. And now the habit’s remained, and he’s not guilty about it one bit. 

“Butters?” Robert screws up his nose in confusion as he sets the coffee mugs down and snuggles up next to Aaron on the sagging sofa. 

“Y’know, fugly, a munter”, Aaron shrugs, not looking at Robert but feeling the warmth seep through his arms and body at his touch. He never realised how much he loved sofa snuggling until he met Robert. 

“You what?” Robert barks in frustration. “You’re gonna have to speak English, Aaron”.

“Ugly”, Aaron grunts back as he picks up his coffee. 

“How does any of that mean ugly?”

“Just cos you’re an old fart that speaks proper – “

“I’m only thir…” Robert drops off the end of the sentence; Aaron smiles smugly as Robert remembers how much older thirty sounds than twenty-nine (another discussion that ended with Aaron on the sofa…). 

“Shhhh!” Aaron’s trying to watch the bloody telly! 

They both watch the screen intently as Jeremy is handed a blue envelope. The audience go silent. 

“The DNA tests show that Des…” 

Robert slurps his coffee loudly next to Aaron, and Aaron flicks his head around to give him a death glare that kinda softens into a loving reproach when he sees how guilty Robert looks. 

“…is not the father…” Jeremy’s voice is drowned out by the calamitous riot that’s taking place on the stage. The audience boo and jeer as two of the siblings throw one of the chairs to the ground trying to take out their not-father, and Aaron’s ears start to ring as the bleep machine blanket bombs the rest of the brawl. 

“Who on earth lives like that?” Aaron grumbles into his coffee mug, eyes fixed on the television. “It’s like they don’t actually have lives…”

“You know they only make these programmes to make these sorts of people look like animals, Aaron”, Robert points out, and Aaron almost throws the coffee on him before he remembers it’s scalding hot. “It’s pretty disgusting really”. 

“Since when did you give a shit about these sorts of people’s lives, Smugden?” Aaron raises his eyebrows as he looks back at Robert again. “You’re such a bullshitter”. 

“You are”, Robert rebukes as he swallows another sip of coffee. “Since when were you such a judgemental bastard? Total hypocrite…”

“I’m a hypocrite?” Aaron snaps back, seriously thinking about throwing his coffee at Robert after all. “Says the one who literally gives zero shits about anything that doesn’t have a pound sign or pin number!” 

“Oh yeah, and you’re Saint Aaron of Emmerdale, are you?” Robert turns his nose up in disgust, pulling away from Aaron and making him feel a whole lot colder. “Totally whiter than white, not a complete bastard – face it, you’re a hypocrite, telling me I’m full of shit!”

“But you are full of shit!” Aaron seethes, and now he stands up, not able to contain his anger sat down. “God, Robert, why the fuck are you still here if you’re just gonna be a total knob?”  
Robert gets up too, and now they’re looking at each other straight in the eye, fire raging at the back of their pupils like the gates of hell. “Because I took the day off so I could fuck you all day!”

“Oh yeah”. Suddenly the anger takes a different shade of passion, and the hairs on Aaron’s arms start to prick up in faint interest, his pulse bubbles a little faster. He sees the twinkle in Robert’s eyes, the slight pout he pulls when he knows that he’s won; it makes Aaron’s hands itch to smother him. To claim him. To hold him tight. God he needs to get fucked. “Better get on with it then”. 

Robert pouts in victory and pushes Aaron towards the door. They race each other up the stairs in their hunger. The coffee goes cold, the bowl unwashed. Day off sex waits for no man. Not even Jeremy Kyle. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed - do let me know what you thought, I love hearing from you :) Fankssssssss


End file.
